Reminiscence
by secondbutthole
Summary: It was a kind of healing for the brothers. Confirmation that, through everything- the pain, the torture, scars, tears- they were still together. Still inseparable like in the times before they learned 'bad magic'. Before their lives turned into fairy tales with fighting princess' and mind control and dragons. (LuClau smut; dedicated to LukePrism and Crossfadesoldier)


Some LuClau smut i suppose. Some, hopefully, well written smut. This is dedicated to: Lukeprism and Crossfadesoldier.

* * *

And then came touch. Gentle, hesitant brushes of the hands. Fingers grazing battle scars lightly, tracing patterns of bruises and cuts that should have healed long ago, hands clinging onto each other and refusing to let go. It was therapy. Confirmation that they were still with each other, they were both still alive and in each other's arms.

In one sense, it was bliss; knowing that they didn't need anyone but each other in a world so clueless.

No one knew their suffering, nor would they understand.

Lips got involved at some point. The first time they connected, their sense of desperacy grew. It was almost frightening, the fact that they couldn't keep away from each other but.. it felt natural. Right, even, so they didn't stop.

Every day, Claus would pepper small kisses against many of the healed wounds that Lucas held. Every day, Lucas would pepper small kisses against many of the healed wounds that Claus held. A kiss to keep then grounded. A kiss to further cleanse themselves.

"I need... I need to know if you're real." Lucas had said one day, words breathy as he held his hands out, touching his face. He looked as if he was going to cry, tears forming in his eyes that he clung on to like a lifeline.

And Claus understood.

Claus needed to know too; if he, himself was real. If Lucas was real. If this was a dream- one that he wasn't willing to wake up from.

It was selfish of the red-head, he supposed, taking the blond into his arms and giving light kisses on the corner of his lips, tracing up his jaw, and finally finding his neck. He listened to the small gasps and whimpers from his younger twin and he responded with pleased hums, happy when he felt fingers tangle in his hair- tugging ever so gently on the strands.

Lucas was the yin to Claus' yang. The day to his night. Sky to his ground. The rational to his creativity. They just weren't the same without each other and a promise, though silent, was made on the first night that the world was reborn. "I'll never lose you again." He never did voice this with Lucas, even if he thought he should. It was daunting, telling Lucas about it. He never liked seeing the blond tear up. He never liked being the cause of said tears (even if his childhood pranks said otherwise).

But now, he didn't mind so much. They were the tears of healing.

Clothes came off then, breathing from both boys slow and even. The shoes and socks came off first, tucking them under the bed and then forgetting their existance. This was followed by their shirts- blue and yellow pinstripe next to red and yellow. Much like the shirt, their existance was forgotten. Much like their past life, long before the seven needles were known, their existance was forgotten. Much like now, they focused on each other and their breathing. They focused on each other being alive.

The pants and underwear were next to go, dropped carelessly on the floor and it wasn't long until Claus gently pushed the other on the bed, crawling up on top.

"Claus.. I-I don't.."

"Shh.."

They were both scared. It always was scary when they started a new stage of their healing process. The kisses, so brief- the touches, barely even there. But, surprisingly, Lucas started it- leaning up to kiss the others lips. It wasn't hard or rough, but it wasn't soft or ghosted, either. It was perfect, maybe even a little broken, but it worked surprisingly well for the both of them. Claus' hand made its way across the small, wooden bed, both boys letting out quiet moans before he finally latched onto the younger (by a few minutes) hand.

Lucas could still remember the death of his mother and Claus' suicide. He could describe, in detail, everything that happened on those dates. How hot it had been, how scary it had been, and how heart breaking it had been. He could tell you how tight he held on to Claus in both occasions and how loud his screams had been.

But no cries the blond uttered were as loud as this.

Like a tide, Claus crashed back into Lucas, and he watched the blond jump- how his back curved, wanting more. How his name fell tirelessly from his lips. How, even though tears fell down his cheeks, he never once asked him to stop. Even when he had offered.

"C-Claus..!" Lucas sobbed, body shaking and hand squeezing the others. Claus squeezed back, of course, the ex-commander trying his best not to jerk, not to hurt him.

They were so close. And that was okay. This was part of their healing.


End file.
